Whaler’s Daughter: A 1950s Childhood on Arapaoa Island, New Zealand

An Oral History of Whaling Life, Maori Family Traditions, and Rural New Zealand Childhoods.

On two late-winter days in 2006, Ria Wilson (née Norton) sat in her Grovetown home and spoke with interviewer Loreen Brehaut,  opening a window into a world that has all but disappeared. Her story is an extraordinary oral history of whaling in New Zealand, rural life in the 1950s. Ria grew up in the remote settlement of Te Awaiti (Tar-White) on Arapaoa Island. Ria’s life was shaped by the sea, self-reliance, and a powerful sense of community.

Early Life in a Whaling Family on Arapaoa Island

Born in Picton in 1949, Ria was raised on the shores of Tory Channel, a rugged, windswept arm of the Marlborough Sounds. Her father, Trevor Norton, and her grandfather were both whalers, working for the well-known Perano family. Like many whaling families in New Zealand at the time, the Nortons lived a life dictated by tides and whale migrations.

“We had the whaling on both sides. That’s what we knew.”

Living Without Electricity: Rural Life in 1950s New Zealand

The Norton household reflected the resilience of rural New Zealand families in the 1950s: no electricity, wood and coal stoves, water sourced from a creek, and kerosene lamps for lighting. Despite the hardships, Ria’s mother, Moira Hameme Norton (née Huntley), cultivated a thriving vegetable garden and flower beds and ran a tiny Post Office from home.

“Some people said we were isolated. But we ate three times a day. We had our garden. Mum kept a lovely flower bed.”

Life in Te Awaiti meant ingenuity and interdependence. Groceries were ordered by mailboat from Berry’s Grocers and Smith’s Butchery in Picton. Ria remembers her mother’s love of preserving, storing jars of jam and paua pickle in a kauri sideboard outside.

The Norton home was modest but vibrant with the hum of daily life, raising fowl and cows, sharing chores, and welcoming neighbours. Their experience echoes a broader story of rural childhoods across New Zealand in the post-war era.

“Our kitchen was sort of tacked on to the house. We had a gas stove in the pantry, a small wood stove in the kitchen, and did dishes in the pantry.”

Whekenui School: A Classroom by the Sea

Ria began school at five, walking to Whekenui School or staying with the Perano family during winters when the track was too cold and dark. The school began as a makeshift hut, eventually replaced by a repurposed tin-roofed building from Waikawa Bay. 

“We thought it was marvellous, two flush toilets, a pot-belly fire, and a foyer to hang your coat!”

The teachers she remembers are Bernie Burns, Neil Breingan, and finally Alan Hall, who was the last teacher at Whekenui who got his own sleepout.

“When I first started school, we had a bloke called Bernie Burns, I think that’s what they called him. I only remember the outline of him really: shortish, red hair, and nice.”

She fondly recalled teacher Ray Scott, a Catholic man who had travelled the world and opened their minds to global geography, indigenous cultures, Christian catechism and talked about Canada. 

“He fitted in so well. He was kind, smart, and worldly. He’d been around the globe, and that meant something back then.”

When Ray left around 1959, there was a brief gap filled by Mrs. Scott, wife of Charlie Scott. She was nearing retirement, but stepped in until the arrival of Neil Breingan, a tall, handsome man from somewhere up the North Island.

“He could draw like you wouldn’t believe, Captain Cook, Abel Tasman, Māori warriors in their cloaks. He’d use chalk on the blackboard and we’d copy his drawings. He must’ve been an artist.”

Though formal Māori language instruction wasn’t part of the curriculum then, many children had Māori heritage, and the teachers showed an interest in cultural learning. The last teacher at Whekenui, Alan Hall, was especially passionate about Māori artefacts and traditional patterns like tukutuku.

“He taught us about farming in Switzerland, about Eskimos chewing hides to soften them. We’d be amazed, asking, ‘Why haven’t they got machines?’ And he’d say, ‘‘They live in tents. They haven’t got power like you have, and generators.”

By then, the school had finally gained electricity in one classroom, wired from Gilly Perano’s nearby house. Before that, there were no lights, just sunlight streaming through the windows.

Behind the school sat the Perano dairy farm, where cows were milked and sheep butchered. The children got milk straight from the farm, learning not just from books, but from the land around them.

“Yes, they had a farm manager there. We really were part of a whole living system, school, station, animals, and sea.”

Eventually, the school closed in 1962 due to declining numbers. Ria went to Johnsonville for a year, then did Correspondence School from Tar-White, a difficult, lonely experience.

“It felt like never-ending homework. Mother helped, but her patience wasn’t great.”

Old photo of Whekenui School - Toni Cormack Slides

Sewing Lessons and School Friends in Tory Channel

Whekenui School may have been small, but its student roll reflected the changing tide of families living and working in Tory Channel, especially those connected to the whaling and farming operations. Ria remembered classmates from the MacDonald, Justice, Heberley, Newman and Perano families. 

For the girls, sewing lessons were a highlight, a special arrangement through the Education Department. Held not at school, but at the Heberley bach across the hill, taught by Valda Craw.

“We’d leave school around lunchtime and go over there. Valda was a great sewer. We’d stay until just before three o’clock, then head back.”

As for the boys?

“They stayed behind. I think they just did their regular lessons. If we had a male teacher, he might have shown them a bit of woodwork.”

By the summer of 1961, numbers at the school were dwindling, but those memories of students, families, and even stitching fabric in a seaside bach remained strong.

Staying with the Peranos During the School Term

The Peranos welcomed her warmly. Vivienne Perano even gave up her bedroom, sleeping in a small sunroom so Ria could stay in comfort.

“It was only a wee room, but it was lovely of her to give it up for me.”

Compared to her home at Tar-White, the Perano house felt almost luxurious. While her family relied on kerosene lamps and cooked on a wood-and-coal range in an old villa that was never wired for electricity, the Peranos had a generator and a large, well-equipped home, though still using a wood range, not an electric stove. Their house was larger, handsomely furnished, and run with a sense of order and grace.

“It was a great life down there. Very generous people. Their home was more upmarket than ours.”

The Peranos often had guests, engineers like Gorton Cuddon, whose firm supplied the generators, refrigeration systems, and even the whale tanks for the station. Meals in the Perano household were formal affairs: everyone would shower, change into fresh clothes, and sit in assigned seats with napkins on their laps. Mrs. Perano or Lena Moleta, the housekeeper, would even brush Ria’s hair to make sure she looked presentable for dinner.

“They never made me feel uncomfortable. You were welcome in their house, no matter who you were. Very capable women ran those homes.”

Old photo of Whekenui Bay - Toni Cormack Slides

Whaling Season Arrivals: Life in Tory Channel’s Winter Crowd

Each May, the quiet summer landscape would transform with the arrival of seasonal whalers and their families. Dogs, chickens, pigs, children and laughter returned to the bay. Houses were reopened, cookhouses fired up, and friendships rekindled.

“Mum and I would go round the bay to greet them. Feeding everyone was a mission!”

Names like Reeves, Gardner, Huntley, Dawson, Keenans, Langman, Sprange, and Pascoe filled the social fabric of Tory Channel.

“They had their own fenced gardens. Some grew vegetables, others even had flowers outside their baches. My grandfather had these black-and-white Muscovy ducks that chirped instead of quacking. I thought all ducks quacked!”

Many of the regulars left crockery, bedding, and supplies in their baches during the off-season, knowing they’d return the following year. It made the transition easier, less to carry down, and a sense of home already waiting.

The 1958-built social hall became the scene of birthdays, movie nights, and sing-alongs led by Ria’s father on guitar.

The “Tuatea” - Toni Cormack Slides

The End of Whaling in New Zealand

In 1965, the whaling station shut down. Whales were now protected. Her father, a gunner on the Orca, the last steel chaser, was left adrift.

“He said: ‘It’s been my life, and now it’s just gone.’”

The family moved to Picton. Trevor took a job at the freezing works. But he never stopped loving Tar-White. Ria's father eventually wore “Save the Whales” T-shirts. After seeing Jacques Cousteau, he came to regret whaling, but never forgot what it meant for their survival.

“I could never do it again. If the opportunity comes, I would not do it again,” he said.

Life Beyond the Channel

Ria trained as a nurse at Wairau Hospital, married Les in 1972, and raised four children. She also returned to her Māori roots, learning te reo at the Kura Institute in Blenheim, reconnecting with a language that her mother and great-grandmother had once spoken fluently.

“My son Bevan always corrects me, he’s fluent!”

Her story, like so many oral histories, preserves more than memory. It preserves a time, a rhythm, and a whakapapa of survival, adaptation, and quiet resilience.

In Loving Memory: Ria Wilson

Ria Wilson (née Norton) passed away in 2021. Her story, rooted in the tides of Tory Channel, the echoes of whale song, and the laughter in a candlelit kitchen, is part of Marlborough’s living history.

“It was a great life down there, you know. We didn’t have power, but we had everything we needed.”

Her voice, captured in this oral history, ensures that the unique world of Arapaoa Island, whaling families, and 1950s rural New Zealand will not be forgotten.

 

Do you have memories or photos from Tory Channel or the Perano whaling station era? Share them with us and help keep this unique piece of Marlborough’s history alive.

This blog post draws upon the transcript from an interview conducted and transcribed by Loreen Brehaut (2007).
For inquiries about the Whekenui Oral History Project or to contribute your memories, please contact Picton Museum.